Poetic Fallout: The Touch
by Sabaku no Hime27
Summary: Who knew Gaara could be so poetic when he starts to describe a single touch?


**Disclaimer:** I don't mind not owning Naruto.

**Summary:** Who knew Gaara could be so poetic when he starts to describe a single touch?

**POETIC FALLOUT: THE TOUCH**

A touch.

Too innocent a gesture to be attached a meaning to.

Too insignificant a feeling to be brooded over too much, particularly in my wounded state when practically everything I feel has been pain.

Yet it was that humble touch that moved me, that brief contact between my open sand less skin and her soft, delicate surface.

For a moment, it completely paralyzed me, then it sent a surge of absolute warmth through my entire being, and as swiftly as it had come, it disappeared.

Then a voice.

"Where does it hurt?"

There was so much sincerity and concern tinged in that voice, it almost sounded like a plea.

I looked up to meet a pair of pale jade green eyes, deep and intense with emotion.

'Are those my eyes?' I took a moment to reflect.

I swear I could feel myself almost drowning simply by gazing at them.

"Where does it hurt? Please tell me."

Surprisingly, her persistence did not irritate me. On the contrary, it blessed me a sense of security attained, for the first time, bloodless.

She reached out to touch me a second time. Tresses of pink hair brushed past my skin as she leaned closer to examine me.

Then she gently rested her hand on my shoulder as a sign of reassurance, her eyes' expression softening in the glow of the bright moonlight outside of my open window.

Amazing it was how a single touch could compensate the awkward words we let unsaid and how it held so much communication to be able to bridge the gap of silence between us.

She understood me, my pain, perhaps even my fears. She could see right through me.

But could I trust her?

I tried to push her hand away with all my might, for fear of revealing a part of me I had no desire to show her.

If she could remember most clearly, I had been Konoha's enemy. Surely they wanted an enemy dead?

This entire process could have been devised as a slow and discreet way of killing me.

Ah, my end, in the hands of a girl whose touch has suddenly rendered me powerless, yet oddly satisfied.

I had no choice but to feel ready for my death.

But nothing could prepare me for what happened next.

"Please, I want to save your life.", said her voice so soft, barely even a whisper.

Yet I could hear it, and it felt as though I wanted to hear it.

She wanted to save my life.

I looked deep into her eyes to confirm the truth in her words.

Yes, there was truth, and for the first time, it soothed me.

It was in that moment in time that I knew I could, and should trust her.

I permitted myself a moment to catch my breath before exerting the last of my effort to raise my sleeve and reveal the bane of my currently wounded state.

A huge gash poorly wrapped in thin cloth, due to the inferiority of my left hand to manage such work, bled through its barrier, and by the looks of it, still hemorrhaged on its own.

I let out a tiny gasp. It hurt like hell.

Cautiously, she removed the thin bandage, her eyes strained in concentration.

She knew that one wrong move could end the purpose of my right hand.

(the wound was that serious to have penetrated through my sand armor.)

Then carefully putting away the bloody bandage, she gently laid my bleeding arm on small table. Beneath my arm was an open scroll, the kind they used for healing purposes.

Slowly, gently yet with so much ease, she commenced her most skilled ability.

A soothing feeling and a slight tingling on my arm sent me drifting off to sleep unable to feel the rest of that saturating moment.

Unguarded I may have been, but anxious I no longer was. I had been freed from my physical pain but most of all freed of my emotional suffering.

Perhaps my heart was mending its way to feeling again, to loving again.

Before I completely succumbed to sleep, I caught a glimpse of her most beautiful attribute, an offering only to me…her smile.

Then nothing.

When I woke up the next morning, a single daffodil perched peacefully on a vase beside me.

Ironic. But maybe not entirely.

I could not help a smile of my own.

Perhaps I've said too much?

-**OSUWARI-**

* * *

(A/n: it might have been a little too bold of me to have used such big words with meter-deep meanings but I thought that would improve my vocabulary.) 


End file.
